Another hole, this one white


Sun after sun grabbed, sucked in.

Planets, too, vacuumed by darkness,


everything forced to night, consumed

by cosmic fabric flaw. Actually, not gone.


Zip-lined through black hole

into a new universe, fluorescent bright,


for wild ride to its far side.

Past onyx moons, charcoal stars,


inked comets. Black background spatter,

mere specks on a tapestry of light.


There, at the shining edge, drawn in

another hole, this one white.

                              Timothy Pilgrim